A Very Fringe Holiday
by Hannibal the Animal
Summary: How do the character's of the Fringe universe celebrate the holidays of 2009? As these drabbles appear very popular, I've decided to make a collective for them!
1. New Year

**Title:** _A Very Fringe New Year_

**Pairing: **_Olivia/Peter, Walter/???, Astrid/Walter!Lite_

**Characters: **_Astrid F,__Olivia D, Peter B, Walter B _

**POV: **_Walter, Peter, Olivia, Astrid_

**Genres: **_Holiday, Family/Friends, Angst, Humour, Romance,_

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened because I want this to work with the rest of the "A Very Fringe Holiday" series. So yes, Liv is here, Fringing it up._

**Warnings:** _None_

**Challenges:** _New Year's, Time stamps, Numbers, Gene_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Word count:** _2230_

* * *

**New Year's Eve 10:46 pm:** Olivia let out a nervous sigh as she checked her appearance in the hallway mirror for the 42nd time that evening. Walter had just called, for the sixth time since she had left the lab this afternoon to confirm that she was indeed coming to the New Year's party he had planned.

"Yes, Walter. I'm coming to the party," she had said, rolling her eyes as she put earrings on—it wasn't like she had friends to visit anyway. John's death and her heavy involvement in her new job had alienated her from the acquaintances that might have invited her to any celebrations being held tonight.

"And for the love of God, Agent Dunham, put on a dress. It's a holiday, not a funeral," Walter had snapped before hanging up.

So here she was, wearing a black dress under her wool pea coat, standing in the hallway, looking at her reflection in nervous apprehension. Was it too formal? Not enough? Would her legs get cold in the drafty air? Would Peter show up in jeans while she had made her face up with cosmetics? She glanced at her eyelashes. Did this much mascara make her look like a whore?

Olivia had curled her hair and looked dejectedly at the way the curls now hung limply around her face. Hair styling had never been on her list of abilities, so she pulled a hairtie out of the shallow bowl on the table beneath the mirror and wrapped the blonde locks into a bun just above her neck. She studied it once more, tilting her head to the right, then to the left, and finally decided she liked how it looked.

She looked down at the dress watch on her left wrist, the silver metal confirming she had just spent another eight minutes procrastinating. She had no idea why she was avoiding getting into her vehicle to drive to Harvard again and she took a deep breath, butterflies fluttering violently in her stomach. Walter was waiting for her, as was Peter—her hand clutched at her stomach as the butterflies rioted once more and she groaned at the realisation that it was Peter that was causing these feelings.

She glanced at her watch again and faintly decided that she ought to head over to the laboratory already.

* * *

**New Year's Eve 11:22 pm:** The official festivities of the New Year's party that Walter had arranged were officially supposed to start at 10:30 pm but Olivia kept apologising to them when Walter called, giving excuses of "not finding car keys", "someone called", and "traffic". They were the lamest defenses that he'd ever possibly heard, but when she finally walked in the door of the laboratory, her cheeks pink and her eyes staring at her shoes, he realised she was just as nervous as he was and that she had probably been contemplating whether or not to even come to the Kersage building in the first place. Peter had poured her champagne in a flute and brought it up to her while she took her coat off and hung it up next to his. Their eyes finally met and she gave him a sheepish smile.

"You're wearing a dress shirt," she said, her voice sounding much higher than he'd ever heard it before and he'd returned the smile.

He shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. "Yeah, well, Walter insisted I look nice for the party. Which you can see is a smashing success."

She seemed to relax a little and looked out over the quiet laboratory. "Where is Walter?"

"He was tired of waiting for you and decided to go to sleep."

At this her face fell. "Oh, I didn't mean to be so late—"

"He's in Gene's stall in the hay," he quickly explained, then offered out his arm. "Shall I lead you to the celebration?"

Her grin became a little wider and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. "You may."

As Peter escorted her town the steps, he stole a glance at the FBI agent. He had never seen her look like this and he thought she looked…_nice_. He was afraid other words might sound too formal or too interested, so "nice" was the best he could come up with at the moment. He quickly sipped at his champagne, blaming his observations on the alcohol.

"Here's Mister Carson Daly, our host for the evening," Peter said with a gesture to the television, which was quietly playing NBC.

"Hello," she greeted with a giggle and a nod.

He then directed her to a card table supporting a few plastic platters of hummus, vegetables, pita triangles and 100-calorie packs of chocolate chip cookies. "And here's the amazing catering, provided by the vending machine on the main floor and Whole Foods."

"_Fancy_," she snickered.

He handed her a small paper plate of strawberries. "And I'm your company for the night until Walter wakes up or someone wanders in."

She moved to the folding chairs he had set up in front of the TV. "Astrid's really not coming?"

"She said she had a party she'd already made for." He shrugged. "And I can't blame her. It's got to be more interesting than here."

"I can't believe that Broyles made us all come in today to work on those files," she said before taking a bite of one of the strawberries.

"They had to be completed and submitted by the first of the year, so I guess none of us really had a choice." He raised his champagne flute to her. "To Agent Dunham, the best agent in the bureau."

Olivia smirked and drank to the toast.

"To Peter Bishop, the best civilian consultant I've had the pleasure of working with." She took another drink and then raised her glass towards the television. "And to Mister Carson Daly, for being able to stand Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl" for so long."

"Here, here," Peter agreed. "To Astrid, for being the bravest assistant ever."

Olivia laughed again and said playfully. "To Walter, for arranging this amazing party."

He grinned and kept his flute raised. "To Broyles for giving me another day in the laboratory with you."

Peter realised instantly that he had misspoken and he looked away from her as his face became hot. Olivia's mouth opened a few times as if to say something, but no words ever came out and eventually he watched her out of the corner of his eyes as she downed the rest of her champagne.

"The clock—" she whispered and suddenly he found himself putting his fingers on her lips to silence her.

"I know you're not one for sappy things—" he started.

"Neither are you," she pointed out, his fingers moving up and down with her words.

He shrugged, feeling slightly helpless, then pulled his hand away. What could he say to that? In truth he was a hopeless romantic, and he knew she was, too, but both of them had simply spent too much time with lovers who didn't appreciate their understanding of courtship between two people, which had left them fearful of using emotions and expressions that might have them regarded as weak.

So Peter leaned in.

The clock reached eleven fifty-nine.

Their lips connected.

The clock struck twelve.

He watched her eyes roll back into her head before they closed. His own eyes closed as well and he felt his hands cupping her face. She tasted like strawberries and champagne, hints of a breath mint and her tongue was exploring his hesitantly.

He released her from his hold and pulled away. They were breathing hard and her cheeks were flushed a soft pink. He could see that her pale, professional lipstick had been smeared slightly and he momentarily realised that he'd got the rest of it on him.

Her hands darted out and before he could react, she pulled him back to her, her lips crushing against his. '_It's midnight! It's __**midnight**__!'_ his mind screamed in joy.

They both turned to look at the fireworks on the television.

* * *

**New Year's Day 12:02am:** Walter startled awake in a soft warm stack of hay inside Gene's stall to hot breath blowing across his face. Large brown eyes stare back at him and he sat up as the beloved bovine gave him a curious look.

"Whhhha…?" He looked down at his watch and scowled. "Damn, I missed it."

The New Year had come and gone without him to witness it. He lay back into the hay and sighed. If he had his assistant here, she would have made sure he was awake to see it, but she was gone, away… his hands searched his trouser pockets to find the amazing "cellular phone" his son had given to him. Blast. If only it was moving right now—he was sure he could talk it into calling his lovely assistant.

"Call Astringent," he ordered the blue device, then thought for a moment. "Wait, I mean…her name is…"

He rested the phone against his chest momentarily to think about what her name was. A, A, A, it started with A. Two-dollar espresso hair…no, not Asterisk, that was a star-shaped symbol he could find on the "eight" key on a computer's keyboard.

His finger pressed the "eight" button on the phone, then the "two" button because that was were the letter "A" showed up. He added a "one", a "five" and a "seven" because that's how tall she was in centimeters. Maybe it was Asthma? Or Astigmatism? Astrology?

Wait, what time was it? The New Year was arriving soon—

He glanced down at his watch again. "Damn! I missed it!"

He pressed the button that showed a speaker emitting sound.

"Speakerphone activated!" a feminine voice said cheerfully and he tossed the phone into the hay, feeling disgusted.

"I have no one to kiss, Gene," he said sadly and the cow licked the side of his face. He let out a gleeful noise, wiping the gooey saliva off with the back of his hand. "Ooh! You dirty flirt! All right, but no tongue."

Taking the cow's head in between his hands, he planted a big kiss on her nose. She mooed loudly and he gently patted her neck.

"It's all right, dear. I don't think we'll work out, either—let's just stay friends."

The cow licked him again.

* * *

**New Year's Day 12:13am:** Across town, Astrid sat in the windowsill of Becca-K-from-Accounting's upscale apartment in the downtown region. Floor fifteen, apartment 1512…she sighed, holding her champagne glass between her to hands as she gazed out the window into the cold night. Sure, everyone in the office had been dying to be invited to this New Year's party and when Becca-K-From-Accounting had hand delivered her invitation, Astrid had nearly gone into frenzy she was so excited. Becca-K-From-Accounting had married into New Money, so the party had a DJ and extravagant lighting, expensive hors d'oeuvres and Cristal, hot bodies and big name players. Astrid had actually gone out and bought a champagne-coloured shift dress for the occasion to compliment the heavy gold bangles and earrings she had adorned herself with.

But as she sat in this room full of people, she felt cold and out of place. To be perfectly honest with herself, she would have much rather been at the lab, wearing basic jeans and a warm sweater.

Sixth months ago she would have been happy to have some of the FBI's up and coming stars flirting with her, but now it made her feel uncomfortable; she suspected it had something to do with the fact that she had grown so used to the way Dr. Bishop slipped her offhanded remarks. And the way he'd forget her name. And how he'd share his Sichuan chicken with her. And how—

She leaned her head against the cool glass and thought about what all of this meant. Dancing with Agent Bradford-From-Homeland-Security was much different than dancing with the doctor. Drinking wine from a crystal goblet was much different than drinking eggnog from a Styrofoam cup. Listening to dance remixes from booming speakers was much different than listening to Bing Crosby on an old record player. And frankly, she wasn't the same girl she had been sixth months ago. Had she grown as a person? Had her tastes changed? It really didn't matter, she just knew she'd rather be across town, somewhere else.

She pulled her cell phone out of her clutch and desperately dialed out the number to the laboratory, but paused before she hit send. What exactly did she plan on saying?

"_Gee Olivia, I want play more games of poker with you, even though I know you're counting the cards."_

"_Boy Peter, I'd rather be mixing up store bought eggnog with you in that old thermos."_

"_Walter…Walter, put on that Charlie Parker record and ask me to dance."_

She closed the phone and placed it back into her lap.

Astrid returned to her vigilant watch of Boston from the windowsill.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Originally Astrid wasn't supposed to be part of the story at all and Walter was going to call her cellphone though not get an answer, but as the author I knew what she was up to and I couldn't keep that side of the story away from mah readers._

_And originally Peter and Liv weren't going to kiss at all. Surprises all around!_


	2. Martin Luther King Jr Day

**Title:** _A Very Fringe Martin Luther King Jr. Day_

**Pairing: **_Olivia/John Scott_

**Characters: **_Olivia Dunham, Philip Broyles, John Scott_

**POV: **_Olivia_

**Genres: **_Holiday, Romance, Angst_

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened because I want this to work with the rest of the "A Very Fringe Holiday" series. So yes, Liv is here, Fringing it up._

**Warnings:** _None_

**Challenges:** _Martin Luther King Jr. Day, flashfic, Jan 19 2008_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Word Count:** _355_

* * *

"There are no more holidays, Agent Dunham," Broyles said before he hung up on her.

Olivia sighed as she set her cell phone down on the bathroom counter and decided she ought find her hairdryer if she was going to make it to work looking professional today. There had been more Pattern associated grief that she had to go investigate, something to do with apples.

"It's too early in the morning to deal with this shit," she grumbled as she tried to focus on her hair instead of what could possibly be awaiting her.

She began to dig through her bathroom drawers, trying to find the black hairdryer she has stashed away some time ago. She normally showered and washed her hair in the evening, but last night she had just been too tired…

The radio in the bathroom was playing clips of the famous "I Have a Dream" speech between news stories and she felt guilty for wishing that she could have today as a holiday. She paused in her search to listen to Martin Luther King Jr.'s voice.

"I doubt that you'd like your name being associated with a day off. This has nothing to do with equal rights," she mumbled as she began rooting through flat irons and hot rollers.

"Talking to yourself, Liv?"

She made a startled noise as she looked up into the mirror to see John standing in the reflection's doorway. She spun around and he gave her a very tender smile.

"That's the first sign you're going crazy. Next thing you know, you'll be seeing things."

His smile became an amused grin, one that used to leave her weak in the knees…one that still left her weak in the knees.

"John…" she murmured.

"The hairdryer is in your overnight bag. You never took it out," he said with a shrug. "Don't go crazy, Liv. It's not you."

He turned around and moved out of the doorway and she stumbled out of the bathroom shouting,

"John, wait—"

He had disappeared and Olivia could almost swear that she was able to smell the scent of overripe apples in the hallway.


	3. Inauguration Day

**Title:** _A Very Fringe Inauguration Day_

**Pairing: **_if you squint and tilt your head there's Walstrid_

**Characters: **_Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop_

**POV: **_Astrid_

**Genres: **_Holiday, Humour, Political_

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened because I want this to work with the rest of the "A Very Fringe Holiday" series. So yes, Liv is here, Fringing it up._

**Warnings:** _None_

**Challenges:** _Inauguration Day, flashfic, Jan 20 2009_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Word count:** _392_

* * *

Cold fingers pulled her iPod's earbud out of her left ear and made Astrid jump in her seat. She had been working alone in the lab early this morning and hadn't expected anyone already, especially not in such a startling manner. Dr. Bishop grinned at her as he thrust a small American flag into her hand and Peter rolled his eyes

"I've brought you something! Be a lamb and hold it up!"

She looked down at the flag in her hands then back up at the doctor. "Huh?"

"Cheese!" he shouted.

She blinked at the sudden bright flash of light and once her eyes adjusted back, she realised he was holding his Polaroid camera and he had taken a photo of her.

"Happy Inauguration Day, my dear. You can keep that. It's for you," he said cheerfully as he fanned the now developing picture.

"Oh, thank you," she said in surprise and decided to abandon the files she was working on. She pointed to the Polaroid in his hand. "You know that doing that doesn't actually make it develop faster, right?"

Dr. Bishop continued fanning. "Really?"

"Yeah." She suddenly found herself very flattered that he had brought her the little flag. "Excited?"

He nodded "Very! Peter bought champagne for the occasion!"

To Astrid's surprise, Peter looked a little embarrassed. "Oh, Walter, you weren't supposed to tell her! That was going to be a surprise."

"I'm sorry, son," he said sympathetically then gave her a playful smile. "So do you like your flag?"

"Of course. You can never have too many, I suppose."

"It's done," he said, holding out the Polaroid.

She studied the image and was reminded of the way a deer looked when caught in the headlights of a fast moving car. "Dr. Bishop, this looks terrible."

"I like it," he disagreed.

"I wasn't ready!" she protested.

Peter, as humoured as he looked, seemed to take her side on the matter. "Let her take another, Walter."

Walter set down the offending photo and she motioned him to stand next to her. "C'mon. You should be in the picture, too."

He draped his arm over her shoulders and she waved her flag.

"Ready?" he asked, holding up the camera to face both of them, poised to take the picture.

She pushed one of her stray curls out of her eyes. "Yep."

"Smile!"


	4. Chinese New Year of the Ox

**Title:** _A Very Fringe Chinese New Year (Ox)_

**Pairing: **_None_

**Characters: **_Peter Bishop, Walter Bishop, Gene the Cow (mention)_

**POV: **_Peter_

**Genres: **_Holiday, Arguing, Family_

**Spoilers: **_Episode 1.11 "Bound"_

**Warnings:** _None_

**Challenges:** _Chinese New Year_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

* * *

"Absolutely not, Walter," Peter refused as he stood in the kitchenette of their hotel room.

His father sat on the edge of the bed, still in his pyjamas and wearing the large, black sombrero that had been hanging in the lab a few days ago. "But Peter—"

"I don't care what holiday it is. You're not setting off fireworks, especially in the lab."

Walter crossed his arms and gave him a scowling pout. "Well, then you'll have to tell Gene why we're throwing her a half-assed birthday party."

Peter had originally been trying to brew their morning tea for the two of them in the room's Mr. Coffee, but now he was simply waving the empty coffee pot around dramatically. "We're not throwing a birthday for the cow, Walter! I've already explained this to you! Two days ago I said it would be okay for you to have takeout to usher in the Chinese New Year, and now you've made taken that and turned it into something bigger than I can handle."

"But I can take care of the decorations! You know I'm good with them! Remember Christmas?" the older man begged.

"This isn't about making decorations, Walter!" he shouted and instantly felt bad upon seeing his father's crestfallen face. Quickly he softened his tone. "Walter, I can't buy everything you put on this list. I have to keep making repairs to the Vista Cruiser, I have to buy you strange food requests, I have to pay off the credit cards I maxed out getting you clothes once you got out of St. Claire's." His father opened his mouth, but Peter cut him off. "And don't get me wrong, I'm glad you have warm winter clothes and thank you for taking such good care of them, but I really can't buy frivolous things no matter how important you think they are. Do you understand?"

His father quietly nodded, the sombrero flopping back and forth. "Can we at least spare a few dollars for party hats? I don't need anything else. But you can't have a party with out party hats," the older man asked softly with a hopeful smile.

Peter gave a sigh as he returned to his duty of making their tea. "We can buy party hats, Walter."

"This is going to be a good year for us, son. I can feel it."


	5. Groundhog Day

**Title:** _A Very Fringe Groundhog Day_

**Pairing: **_lite!Walstrid_

**Characters: **_Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Astrid Farnsworth_

**POV: **_Walter_

**Genres: **_Holiday, humour_

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened because I want this to work with the rest of the "A Very Fringe Holiday" series. So yes, Liv is here, Fringing it up._

**Warnings:** _None_

**Challenges:** _A continuously repeating day, pick-up lines_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Word count:** _542_

* * *

A roguish smile crossed his face and looked over at his son.

"I've been here before," he announced in a sing-song voice.

Peter, whom was at the microscope, gave him an exasperated look. "Yes, Walter. This is your lab."

"Hah! My lab was shut down when I went to St. Claire's!" Walter shouted triumphantly, jabbing his finger in his son's direction.

"Yes, and we reopened it when we got you out," Peter snapped.

This surprised him. "You got me out of St. Claire's?"

"How else would your have gotten out?"

"I assumed I had escaped. Or that I am hallucinating," he muttered suspiciously looking around the strange new place.

"You're not hallucinating, Walter." His son gave a dramatic sigh then looked at him curiously. "Have you taken your drugs today?"

"Oh, I don't believe I have." He held out his hand.

Peter shook his head. "I don't have them Walter. You do."

"Ah, of course. I would never leave something so dangerous in the hands of a child," Walter said as he sorted through his pockets.

"Walter, I'm thirty," his son said.

"I want iced tea," he demanded.

Peter handed him a water bottle, not looking up from his microscope. "You can use water."

Walter grumbled and mixed his medication into water. He put the top back on and shook it up as he wandered around the lab. There were so many devices and materials that he enjoyed working with, so he was hoping to come across a notepad and perhaps a pen, so that he might write down the names of things that caught his eyes so that he could order them for his lab.

He sipped the sweet tasting water and was a little startled when he happened across a curly haired woman running a currying comb over a cow. "Oh, hello. That's a very lovely sweater you're wearing; do you have anything on underneath?"

Her eyes became very big as she stared at him. "Are _**hitting**_ on me?"

Peter's warning tone called across the laboratory. "Walter…"

"I didn't hit her!" he insisted, throwing his hands up in the air to show his son that in fact, he hadn't laid a hand on the young woman.

Her cheeks were the slightest pink as she explained, "I meant, are you trying to make a pass at me?"

"Oh, young lady, I have better pick up lines than that," he said with a smirk. "I'm a Leo. What's _your_ sign?"

The girl giggled.

"Walter…" Peter called out again, sounding annoyed still.

"It's important to ask these things when you meet women, Peter, I assure you," he insisted loudly, then turned his attention back the young lady with the cow. "So, do you come here often?"

The young woman bit her lower lip as she obviously tried to hold back a smile.

He raised an eyebrow and tried to act as suave as possible. "Do you like laboratories, my dear? Because if you do, I'd be more than happy to take you back to mine—"

"Walter, this is your lab! And stop trying to flirt with Astrid—it's gross!" Peter yelled.

Walter hurried over to his son and whispered happily, "Peter, you're not going to believe this, but I think I've _been_ here before!"


	6. Lincoln’s Birthday

**Title:** _A Very Fringe Lincoln's Birthday_

**Pairing: **_None_

**Characters: **_Olivia Dunham, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Astrid Dunham_

**POV: **_Olivia_

**Genres: **_Holiday, Humour, Singing_

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened because I want this to work with the rest of the "A Very Fringe Holiday" series._

**Warnings:** _None_

**Challenges:** _Abraham Lincoln, Olivia, piano songs, "Willard"_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Word count:** _607_

* * *

Walter was sitting at the piano, playing fluid scales and humming out a rhythm while Olivia sat, playing with the light board that Peter had repaired for her. Her mind was half here, half there, unable to focus on one thing over another. It had been two days ago, but she was still shaken by the turn of events. At least today at the laboratory she had the luxury of letting her mind wander. She did glance up however when Walter began singing.

"Nibble, nibble, nibble, they do not feed on cheese. Nibble, nibble, nibble, fingers, nose and FEET!"

She made a face. "_What_?!"

"Forgive him—he watched Willard last night while I showered," Peter said, pausing in the soldering he was doing to a cellphone.

She'd never heard of the film. "Willard?"

Astrid looked up from her papers. "It's a movie about a lonely man who is able to get the rats in his basement to do whatever he wants. He ends up siccing the rats against any of his enemies, like his boss—"

"They eat off his face!" Walter interrupted in a delighted tone.

"Ewww!" Olivia groaned while Peter said, "Gross!"

"This," the scientist sang, "makes me so hungry for cupcakes. Grey frosting and Red Hots! Chocolate batter!"

Peter frowned. "You already got a treat today, Walter."

The older man paused in the music he was playing. "When and why?"

"After breakfast on the car ride over, because it's a holiday," his son said pointedly before returning to his work.

Walter looked confused. "Whose?"

"Whose what?" Peter asked, melting a wire.

"Whose holiday?"

Olivia watched Peter set down the soldering iron to "It's Abe Lincoln's birthday. We should have had the day off, but Broyles would rather we go over the materials recovered from Jones' hospital room."

This seemed to prompt another song out of Walter. "He lived in a log cabin…and he told the truth! His sure loved his theatre, shot by John Wilkes Boothe! The revolver was raised to his head and it went "Pop"! There went the front of his scull, blown straight off!"

"Walter!" Peter shouted.

Astrid looked like she was trying to hold back a smile. "Walter, that is _macabre_."

The scientist gave a nonchalant shrug and began to play the piano again, though this time it sounded considerably more pleasant, though a little folksy. He cleared his throat and began to sing once more. "I'm not afraid of the black man running, he's got it right, he's got a better life coming. I don't care what the captain said, I fold it right at the top of my head. I lost my sight and the state packs in, I follow my heart and it leads me right to _Jackson_."

"That's a very nice song, Walter," Olivia complimented, shutting the lid to her light box.

"It's not mine," he said, giving a dejected sigh.

She stood up and stretched her arms for a moment. "We should do something. Have a late breakfast up in the school cafeteria, visit the campus bookstore—"

"Poptarts. I've never had one," Walter said mournfully.

"Okay, so we could get Walter some Poptarts and stretch out legs, get some fresh air…?" she proposed, looking hopefully at Astrid and Peter.

Astrid and Peter exchanged glances and the younger of the two shrugged. "I could use a break."

"I guess that'd be okay," Peter said standing up somewhat apprehensively.

While the other three began preparing themselves for the journey out of the lab, Olivia smiled, happy to have a distraction from lights she could turn off with her mind.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ the last song Walter sings is "Jacksonville" by Sujan Stevens, from the album "Illinois". The other two songs are ones I made :)_


	7. St Valentine's Day

**Title:** _A Very Fringe St. Valentine's Day or "Love Potion #9"_

**Pairing: **_Olivier, Walstrid, John Scott/Olivia, Astrid/Other, Rachel Dunham/Peter Bishop, Rachel Dunham/Gregg,_

**Characters: **_Olivia Dunham,__Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Rachel nee Dunham, Ella, Charlie Francis_

**POV: **_Olivia, Peter, Astrid, Walter_

**Genres: **_Holiday, Romance, Angst, Humour, Family/Friendship,_

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened because I want this to work with the rest of the "A Very Fringe Holiday" series._

**Warnings:** _Sexual references, _

**Challenges:** _St. Valentine's Day, pepperoni pizza, ice cream, stick figures_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Word count: **_3216_

* * *

Olivia sat on the edge of her bed, watching Ella playing in her makeup at the vanity. The little girl was smearing a very vibrant red lipstick on her lips and she wondered when and where she had purchased such a shade, Surely she had never worn this colour when she was with john but when else could she have bought it?

From the kitchen, Olivia's sister Rachel yelled out, "Ella! What are you doing? I made breakfast!"

"She's in here with me!" Olivia called out, then looked at her niece. "Ella, come here and let me clean off your face."

The little girl complied, allowing her to use the cosmetic cleaning clothes to wipe at her face. "Let me wear a little makeup please!" she begged. "My friends are having a party today and I want to look pretty."

"You'll have to ask your mother, not me," Olivia said and the girl nodded before running off to the kitchen.

Liv looked at the files she had spread out on her bed, something she had been attempting to organise before Ella came in. It was only a minute later that Rachel stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

"So, that guy you work with…Peter."

Olivia bristled, knowing _exactly_ where this conversation was leading. "What about him?"

Her sister's cheeks had the slightest tinge of pink. "I, well, you see him everyday, so you'd know if he had a girlfriend, right?"

That wasn't something she even wanted to think about. "I…Peter actually doesn't open up to me. He's a very private person."

"Really? He seemed pretty comfortable when he was playing with Ella. And when he stopped by the other night."

This conversation was making Olivia's stomach churn. "Is there a question you're trying to ask, Rachel?"

"I just wanted to know if anyone had dibs on him, that's all."

Olivia busied herself with the files scattered across her bed and Rachel took the hint, leaving the room without another word.

* * *

"Why are we here again?" Peter asked as he pushed the shopping cart into the grocery store.

It was still fairly early in the morning, the sun just having risen and his father was electric with some unholy energy, touching a display of M&Ms and breathing in deeply as they walked past the bakery.

"To get something. I already told you that!" Walter said, his hand holding onto the cart's side.

Peter could remember that he was always instructed to do that as a child, so that he wouldn't wander away and he thought with some bitterness that obviously it was a habit neither of them could break as adults.

"Yes, but what?" he insisted.

Walter puttered around the florist's section, sniffing at daisies and pulling at ferns. "Something for your Agent Dunham."

Peter stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh no. We're not getting her anything for Valentine's Day."

"Yes, you are. You like her and you should let her know how you feel," Walter said firmly.

"No," he snapped, feeling like his stomach had dropped in nervous admission of his feelings.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No, Walter."

The grocery's florist managed to cut in. "Can I help you two?"

Walter smiled pleasantly at her. "A bouquet of those lovely pink gerbera daisies. And yellow roses."

"With the daisies?" the florist asked.

He nodded. "Yes."

"Walter, I'm not paying for these," Peter said sourly.

"I'll buy them for you. I was not able to buy the corsage for your prom date," he said, pulling out two neatly folded twenty-dollar bills from his pocket.

"I didn't go to prom, Walter," Peter spat.

His father ignored his outburst. "Olivia wouldn't like roses. She wouldn't like it if you pretended to be traditional."

"Olivia loves John," Peter protested, though weakly.

Walter fondly patted his shoulder. "But she could love you, Peter. You're everything John is _not_."

* * *

Walter loved St. Valentine's Day. It was his favourite holiday back in St. Claire's because it didn't require family members and the cafeteria staff always put little love heart shaped sprinkles on both the morning's oatmeal and on the vanilla pudding for dessert. He shuffled his feet happily as he imagined what kind of food he'd get today, now that he was a free man.

And this was the day of kissing. Kissing was something Walter missed. Deeply. Kissing Peter's forehead, kissing drunkenly as a student, kissing at midnight on New Year's, kissing the TV in the St. Claire's rec room because it was Thursday and that meant they'd be allowed to watch "Golden Girls".

Also, he had made a special card for his son, one that had seventeen missed years worth of love (and glitter) inside. He'd hidden it in Peter's inner peacoat pocket and couldn't wait for him to find it.

"I love surprises!" he blurted out happily and quickly covered his mouth with his hands.

Everyone in the laboratory was looking at him, including Agent Francis who had originally been giving Peter the stink-eye.

"Walter, what are you talking about?" Peter asked, looking annoyed.

He frowned at his boy, who still hadn't given the object of his affection the gift he'd bought for her.

"Nothing. I'm just hungry, that's all," he lied, then huffed a sigh.

Peter looked skeptical. "Well, stop shouting. I don't want Astrid telling me that you were a handful while I was out."

Walter dropped the papers in his hands. "You're leaving?"

Peter started to put on his jacket. "Olivia and I—"

"Condoms! Take condoms with you!" Walter said, frantically digging in his pockets in hopes he'd find any of the prophylactics his boy would need if he wanted to get lucky—Olivia seemed to be the type of woman who believed in "no glove, no love."

"—are going to do some surveillance on a person of interest," Peter continued, glaring at him.

"Are you sure you don't need me to come, Liv?" Agent Francis asked hopefully as she put on her coat.

"We'll be all right, Charlie," Dunham said kindly.

"What she's trying to say is that they'd rather be _alone_," Walter emphasised loudly.

"No, Charlie is needed back at the office. If we need a wire tap or something else, he's the only one we can trust to do the job right," she said and Walter felt smug that his son was going to get time alone with the woman he was keen on–Olivia's SUV had a **big** backseat.

"Have fun you two!" Walter sang out as the three left the laboratory.

* * *

Astrid was tired of Valentine's Day, sick of it. The guy she had gone out to dinner with a few weeks ago hadn't called her back and she had simply given up on him. Really, she'd taken a chance and now she regretted wasting her time. _'This is why I don't bother shaving my legs,'_ she thought angrily. _'There's no one to look pretty for.'_ Dr. Bishop, who was in a particularly cocky mood, sauntered over to her table.

"I could make you fall in love with me, you know," he bragged as he tossed a few printed out photos of Betsy on the table—he'd just learned how to use the digital camera and computer's printer.

"Oh?" she asked, not looking up from her work.

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly "Lobotomy, hypnotism, sedation…"

"With that mix I'm surprised you don't have women running **to** you," she said, feeling a bit of her anger leave.

He sat down next to her. "Would you like to help me make a plaster cast of Gene's udders?"

"Gee, that's so romantic I have no idea what to say, Walter," she said, fighting a grin.

"You're welcome. But first, we shall order lunch! I'm starving!"

Actually she was a bit hungry, too. "What do you want?"

"A pizza pie. Pepperoni. Pineapple. Supersized!" Dr. Bishop sang.

She watched him practice his moonwalking (terrible) as she dialed the number to their favourite pizza place.

A man picked up on the third ring. "Little Big Pizza, how can I help you?"

"I want to order a pepperoni and pineapple pizza, extra large."

"Tell them I want the pepperoni's shaped like love hearts!" the scientist shouted out.

"If we pay you extra, can you cut the pepperoni's into hearts?" she asked and when the man responded she called out to Dr. Bishop. "He said the pepperonis can be arranged into the shape of a heart."

"Fine," he grumbled.

"That'll be fine," she agreed.

Astrid gave the man the address and was told that it would be a forty-minute wait. Satisfied that their lunch was decided and she didn't have to pick it up herself, she decided she could spend the time working on more of the case regarding Jones.

"Are you writing up about Mr. Jones?" Dr. Bishop asked, abandoning his dancing looking over her shoulder.

She pulled up the digital images and pointed to them on the computer screen. "The photos from the prison in Germany are fascinating. It looks like an explosion pattern in this corner here."

"It's not burn mark though. It's streaked carbon," he said, dragging his fingers across the image in an almost reverent manner.

"Do you have anything in any of your books I can cite in this report?"

"Hmm, I'm sure I can find you something!" he said, hurrying off to his extensive bookshelf.

She examined the photo a little closer, wondering if the smeared carbon was the result of molecules being displaced.

"Now this is interesting," he murmured, studying a textbook.

She got up from her sat and went over to him. "What is it?"

"Take a look," he said, tilting the book for her to see.

She was a little confused. "Um, what does the theory of gravity have to do with what we're looking at?"

"Theory of gravity? No, here in the margin."

There was a stick figure doodle his finger had been covering and it took her a moment to realise what she was looking at.

"Why on earth would you draw this in your text book?!" she exclaimed, her voice an octave higher than usual as she quickly averted her eyes away.

"I have no clue!" he said, looking delighted at the mystery.

She stomped over to what she considered "her" desk and pulled out a little bottle, then brought it over to him. "If you find any more, just white it out. I don't want to come across anymore of your cartoon renditions of what "reverse cowgirl" looks like."

"This position has a name?" he inquired, studying it.

Her face felt hot. "Yes."

"And you know it? Reverse cowgirl, you say?"

"No, that's not reverse cowgirl—look, just white it out!!!" she said pushing the white out into his hands before deciding she wasn't getting paid enough for this job.

* * *

Olivia and Peter sat in her government plated SUV at a nearby Dairy Queen; Peter said they were there to watch the man the bookseller had purchased the ZFT manuscript from, but she was beginning to suspect he had really directed them here because he wanted the ice cream cones—he was currently working on his third.

"Shit, I'm out of napkins," he said as a particularly thick glob of vanilla, chopped nuts, and chocolate sprinkles ran down the side of his hand.

"Lick it!" she said with snort.

His mouth was still full of ice cream. "Do you got a tissue? C'mon, it's running down my hand!"

"Lick it off!"

"I have a handkerchief—take it!" Peter pushed the sticky ice cream cone into her hands.

"Aw, yuck!" she groaned as it made her own fingers messy.

He reached his hand into his coat's inner pocket, but instead of pulling out cloth, he removed paper. "What the hell?"

She paused in licking some of the ice cream off her hand. "What is it?"

"It's an envelope," he said, holding it in front of him.

"That looks like Walter's writing," she said as she looked at the scrawl on the front.

"It is," he said softly.

Olivia watched with interest as he slit open the envelope with his pocketknife and pulled out a card made from a folded piece of printer paper. Hearts, golden means, and a cow's hoof print were crayoned on the front and when he opened it, a fine mist of glitter puffed out.

"_Dear Peter,"_ he read aloud. _"Sometimes I am not a good father, sometimes I am not a good mentor, sometimes I am not a good man. But I have always tried to be a good scientist. And as a scientist, I take pride in all my creations, the good, the bad, the successful, the failed. You are the greatest creation of all, my favourite and my best, always. Too often I have tried to shape you and direct you, but I realise that as a scientist I should be more objective. It should not be my goal to have any experiment go the way I would like to see it become, I can only hope. But I have faith that as the greatest creation I've ever made, you will not disappoint me._

"_I suppose my namesake said it best in his poem, "Sometimes with One I Love." _

_SOMETIMES with one I love, I fill myself with rage, for _

_fear I effuse unreturn'd love; _

_But now I think there is no unreturn'd love—the pay _

_is certain, one way or another; _

_(I loved a certain person ardently, and my love was _

_not return'd; _

_Yet out of that, I have written these songs.)_

"_Peter, I love you and I want you to always be happy. Love always, Your Father, Dr. Walter Bishop."_

Olivia could see his eyes were watering as he continued staring at the card. "Peter…that's so sweet," she said softly.

He quickly put the card back in its envelope and stuffed it back into his coat's pocket. He gestured to her hand, which was now covered in ice cream. "Do you need a handkerchief?"

* * *

"This is very greasy," Walter said, his mouth full of the St. Valentine pepperoni pizza.

His lovely lab assistant nodded, and he frowned. Her demenour had been less than enthusiastic all day and he felt it was time to finally say something about it. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, her distant expression changing to something that looked a little guiltier.

His frown deepened and he swallowed the food in his mouth. "You haven't been yourself all day. Something is wrong."

She made a face and squirmed a bit in her seat before quietly admitting, "I don't like Valentine's Day."

This shocked him. "Why?"

"It's not fun when you have no one as a Valentine," she said with a shrug and he couldn't help but notice the irony that she was wearing a hot pink sweater today.

"Peter is my Valentine," Walter said as he took another bite of the very greasy, but very delicious pizza, then exclaimed, "Gene! You could be Valentines with Gene."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going to be Valentines with a cow, even if it is our favourite _Bos Taurus_."

"Hmm…there's a nice girl at the diner Peter and I eat at whose boyfriend dumped her. She has very pretty red hair," he suggested, wiping his hands down the sides of his trousers.

Her cheeks flushed slightly. "No, thanks."

"I know where the Gamma Lambda Pi frat house is!" he said slamming his hands down on the metal gurney they were eating on, making their paper plates jump a few centimeters.

"No!" she laughed.

"You can't have Peter because Olivia likes him."

"And I don't want Peter," she said pointedly and continued to eat the pizza slice in her hand.

The laboratory's door flew open and in stormed Peter, Olivia following closely behind. "Walter, did you steal my money?" his son asked.

Walter was a little startled. "What?"

Peter came over to them, eying the pizza before crossing his arms over his chest. "I went through my wallet while we were out and I discovered all of my money was missing."

Walter avoided his eyes. "Maybe."

"Is that how you paid for the flowers?"

This seemed to have caught the two women's interests. "What flowers?"

"Nothing," Peter said quickly, his cheeks turning slightly red.

"Who did you buy flowers for? Gene?" Astringent asked.

He pretended to interest himself in his paper plate. "No. For Peter. To give to Olivia."

This seemed to interest Dunham, who turned to Peter. "And yet I haven't seen any flowers. An explanation?"

Walter watched his son avoid looking directly at Olivia. "I told him not to buy them, which I see by technicality were actually purchased by me."

She had a slight smile playing on her lips. "So were you waiting to give them?"

Peter stomped off and retrieved the bouquet, which apparently had been stashed in the far back of their storage refrigerator, next to seal containers of liquid brain. To Walter's delight, his son pushed them into Olivia's hands, with a curt, "Here. Happy?"

She looked a little stunned. "They aren't roses."

"You're okay with that?" Peter asked, his body language slowly relaxing.

Walter smiled at Agent Dunham. "Peter is one in a million."

* * *

Peter lie on his back, a large smile on his face. It was about two in the morning and he'd finally managed to lull Walter to sleep after singing "Row, Row, Row, Your Boat" about fifty times. He hadn't told his father he had found the card, which was now folded neatly and stored in his wallet; it was still hard to express any feelings towards Walter. Though, Olivia seemed to really like the daisies, and Peter had begrudgingly told his father on the car ride home that he had good taste in flowers. It wasn't such a bad Valentine's Day after all.


	8. Mardi Gras

**Title:** _A Very Fringe Mardi Gras_

**Pairing: **_Oliver_

**Characters: **_Peter Bishop, Walter Bishop, Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Gene the Cow,_

**POV: **_Peter, Olivia_

**Genres: **_Holiday, Mardi Gras_

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened because I want this to work with the rest of the "A Very Fringe Holiday" series. So yes, Liv is here, Fringing it up._

**Warnings:** _None_

**Challenges:** _Mardi Gras, King Cake_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Word count:** _1027_

* * *

"I love Mardi Gras," Walter said happily as he walked along the campus sidewalk, pausing to address some young co-eds passing by. "Hello, my dears. Do any of you care to earn some beads?"

He held up a handful of cheap plastic Mardi Gras beads that Peter honestly had no idea where he'd obtained them in the first place. He snatched them out of his father's hand and waved the girls off, who were giggling among themselves.

"Oh, Peter. You are such a wet towel," the older man huffed, looking irritated.

"These beads are a potential sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen.

"I found them…" Walter started but Peter gave him a warning look, not wanting any lies. "Obviously the young lady I took them from had decided to start the holiday early! She was passed out in some bushes in front of the fraternity and I couldn't let the beads go to waste!"

Peter groaned. "Walter…"

Someone came running across the lawn to join them, a certain curly-haired lab assistant. "Good morning, you two!" Astrid greeted cheerily, falling in time alongside them. She glanced at his hands and gave a mischievous smile "Ah, earning beads, Peter? I have a few that you can—"

"Astrid!" he sputtered.

"He'd rather get them from Agent Dunham, young lady," his father corrected.

"Walter!" he shouted in horror.

His father clapped his hands together in delight. "My dear, you look so festive! Are those sparkles on your lashes?"

"Just a little. This isn't college or else I—" she suddenly began to blush and cut herself off.

"Or else you what?" Peter prompted, raising an eyebrow.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

His father gave her a flirtatious smile. "You were going to say you'd be wearing nothing but body paint, weren't you?"

"NO," she refuted

"Walter, leave her alone," Peter snapped, hoping Olivia would arrive soon.

* * *

The first words out of Olivia's mouth when she entered the lab were, "Why is Gene wearing beads?"

Walter paused in walking the cow around and smiled broadly at her. "Good afternoon, Olivia!"

"Good afternoon, Walter." Her eyes moved up to the top of his head, where a crown cut out of teal tissue paper balanced. "Wow, it really looks like you guys are having a good time."

"Mardi Gras party. Well, as best of a party as we can make it. Here's your crown," Astrid said, handing her a purple tissue paper crown.

Olivia was resigned to the fact that she'd probably have to dress up for every holiday from now on. "Knowing you guys, I was expecting a little more debauchery considering it's Mardi Gras."

"Our party isn't lame!" Walter cried, leading the cow back to her holding stall. "And how do you let loose on this highest of holidays, Olivia?"

"I don't."

The other three people in the room gave a unison, "What?"

She felt embarrassed, but said coolly, "I don't celebrate Mardi Gras. I never have."

"We need to get this girl some beads. Walter, bring me some beads," Astrid ordered loudly. "You don't have to earn them, Olivia—we'll give them to you out of pity."

Walter looked sad. "Peter took all mine away."

"What do you have against Mardi Gras beads, Peter?" Astrid asked with a grin, playing with her own marigold yellow crown.

Peter quickly retorted, "Nothing, Miss Nothing-But-Body-Paint."

Olivia looked to Astrid for an explanation. "Body paint?"

Olivia tried not to laugh as Astrid's face became red. "I neither admit or deny anything."

Walter nudged Astrid with his elbow and winked. "I bet you were wild back in college, my dear!"

"I kept my nose clean and I got to class on time," she said firmly though met no one's eyes.

"We need a King Cake," Peter said suddenly, instantly getting everyone's attention.

Olivia repositioned the crown on her head. "A 'king cake'? What's that?"

"I like cake," Walter said brightly.

Olivia decided that Peter looked…pretty good for someone wearing a green tissue paper crown.

"It's a cinnamon-roll like cake shaped in a ring," he explained, "filled with jams and cream cheese icing, covered with the traditional Mardi Gras colors in frosting or sugar on top. The cakes have a small trinket inside, often a small plastic baby, and the person who gets the piece of cake with the trinket has various privileges and obligations. They get to be king for the day and the following week they have to bring in a cake for everyone."

Walter "ooh'd" and "ahh'd" in all the right places while Peter got up from his seat at the desk and went over to the refrigerator. "And look," he announced as he pulled out a large white box, "what I happened to pick up on the way home last night!"

"You said you were just using the bakery's lavatory!" Walter shrieked happily as Peter brought the cake over to them. "I didn't see you bring a box out!"

"I hid it under my coat—"

Walter flung his arms around his son while Astrid went off to find plastic forks and paper plates.

"This is the best Fat Tuesday ever," the scientist said, planting a sloppy kiss on his son's cheek.

Olivia chuckled and pulled out her pocketknife, cutting up thick slices of the delicious looking dessert as Peter pushed his father away. In a separate plastic bag was a small metallic gold plastic baby, barely bigger than a quarter. Astrid passed out the utensils and handed over the plates to Peter, whom was beginning to serve up the cake. First a slice to Astrid, then one to Olivia, stuck with a black plastic spoon. If she hadn't known how clever Peter was, she might have missed him palming the small gold-coloured baby into the cream cheese icing that dripped thickly onto the next paper plate. His eyes met hers and she smiled at him. It was sweet, really, that he'd do something like that when he really didn't have to.

"Here you go, Walter," the younger Bishop said as he handed over the plate.

Today Walter was the king and Olivia was more than convinced that today Peter was also a prince.


	9. Pi Day

**Title:** _A Very Fringe Pi Day_

**Characters: **_Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop_

**POV:**_ Walter_

**Genres: **_Holiday, Family/Friendship_

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened because I want this to work with the rest of the "A Very Fringe Holiday" series. So yes, Liv is here, Fringing it up._

**Warnings:** _None_

**Challenges:** _Pi, cake_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Word count:** _253_

* * *

Walter walked into the hotel room's sitting area, where his beloved son was sleeping fitfully on the couch. He had turned on a lamp and was carefully carrying the white cake he'd ordered from room service while Peter was showering last night. Already he could see his boy stirring from his slumber and he smiled.

"Happy Pi Day to you!" he sang quietly so as not to startle his son. "Happy Pi Day to you! Happy Pi Day, dear Peter, happy Pi Day to you!"

"Ughhhh…" Peter groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to blow out the candles, my sweet son," Walter gently instructed, lowering the cake down to the general vicinity of his boy's head.

Peter pulled the pillow off his head. "What for again?"

Walter nodded to the blue icing "3.14!" he had written neatly across the top. "Pi Day. Hurry now!"

His son turned his green eyes up towards him. "Do I have to make a wish?"

Walter snorted. "Of course!"

Peter leaned up and blew out the candles before lying back down, and rolling over to face away from him.

Walter shuffled his feet happily. "What did you wish for? No wait! Don't tell me! I want it to come true."

"Let me sleep," Peter groaned. "And don't light anything else on fire."

Walter turned off the lamp and headed back to his bed where he planned on having an early breakfast of white cake and vanilla icing. "Can do!"


	10. St Patrick's Day

**Title:** _A Very Fringe St. Patrick's Day_

**Characters:**_ Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth_

**POV: **_Walter, Olivia, Astrid_

**Genres: **_Holiday_

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened because I want this to work with the rest of the "A Very Fringe Holiday" series._

**Warnings:** _None_

**Challenges:** _St. Patrick's Day, "Kiss Me, I'm Irish", Dairy Queen_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Word count:**_640_

* * *

Walter strutted over to his lab assistant whom was busy with all the glassware he'd managed to dirty yesterday.

"Kiss me, I'm Irish," he demanded.

She looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. "Pardon?"

"I saw a girl wearing a button that said it." He leaned across the desk. "Kiss me, I'm Irish."

She gave an irritated sigh and went back to cleaning the flasks before repeating what he had said in the most skeptical tone he'd ever heard her use. "You're Irish."

"For you I am. I mean, if that's what it'll take for you to kiss me," he said, suspecting his flirtatious mood had something to do with all the Bailey's he'd snuck out of the minibar this morning.

She paused in the washing of the flask in hand. "Wait, so you're serious?"

"Absolutely."

"No. Go kiss Gene."

Walter grumbled and went over to his cow friend who never turned him down.

* * *

Across town, Peter and Olivia sat in the parking lot of a Dairy Queen waiting for an informant from Intrepius to show up. Olivia was snacking on an order of french-fries that she was dipping in the chocolate of a fudge sundae and Peter was enjoying a truffle blizzard.

"Isn't it funny that TV shows always portray people meeting up in luxurious hotels or underground parking structures?" she contemplated.

"Yeah. This place is perfect: public, low key, three different exits in the parking lot, and the best frozen yoghurt in town."

"By now you must be considered a "valued customer"," Olivia joked.

He looked like he was going to say something clever back when he pointed out across the parking lot. "Hey, is that the guy?"

She studied the man Peter was pointing at then held out her fries. "No. Want some?"

He pulled a few of the crispy potatoes out. "Thank you."

"So how are you and Walter?" she asked leaning back into her seat.

"Fine." His next words came out slightly tense sounding. "And, um, how are Ella and Rachel?"

Olivia studied the sprinkles on her sundae. "Good."

They were silent there after and the informant never showed.

* * *

Astrid meandered over to Walter, who was hunting and pecking on his typewriter—at the moment, it looked like he was typing out, "The Mouse's Tale" from Alice's Adventure in Wonderland.

"Hey, Dr. Bishop," she said and he pushed away from his desk, making his office chair spin round and round.

"Yes, my dear?" he said on one of his rotations.

"I got you something," she said holding out a small object that she had purchased up in the student bookstore.

He brought his chair to a halt. "What's this for—oh! Oh yes! I know what this is!"

He happily attached the "Kiss Me I'm Irish" pin to his lab coat, admiring it and she smiled, pleased that this 99 cent treasure was something he liked.

"It looks very—mmph!"

Astrid pulled away from his sudden and very sloppy kiss, a little dumb founded. He smiled at her then roughly pinched her side.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, looking at him for an explanation.

He turned back to his typewriter. "You're not wearing any green."


	11. Spring Equinox

**Title:** _A Very Fringe First Day of Spring_

**Pairing: **_Peter/Olivia, Rachel/Olivia_

**Characters: **_Olivia Dunham, Rachel Dunham, Ella, _

**POV: **_Olivia_

**Genres: **_Holiday, _

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened because I want this to work with the rest of the "A Very Fringe Holiday" series. So yes, Liv is here, Fringing it up._

**Warnings:** _None_

**Challenges:** _Spring_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Word count:** _594_

* * *

Olivia absolutely loved spring. The fresh air, the new leaves and flowers, the occasional chance of rain, the fact that Peter Bishop wasn't bundled up under that pea coat and scarf…

She sighed forlornly at her kitchen table, slurping on lukewarm coffee while she thought about the past few days. Her sister kept assuring her that she was going to move out and while Olivia was more than to have her privacy once more, she wasn't looking forward to being alone in the apartment once again. She hoped her protests of her sibling and niece having to rush out were being taken seriously.

On the other hand though, she was less than happy that Rachel wanted to stay in Boston. She could only assume this was because she had really made eyes for a certain Peter Bishop. She wanted to be nasty and mean about the situation, to cut her sister down to size by pointing out that Peter was the type of guy who wanted a woman with a career and ambitions similar to his own.

But there was a nagging doubt of, _'But Liv, she's __**normal**__.'_

That was the small fact that bothered Olivia; she was never normal no matter how hard she tried. She didn't like many comedy films because she found the humour to simply be too stupid, so she really wasn't one to take to the cinema for a date. And she was somewhat of a picky eater, so when she went out to dinner she was usually ordered a plain salad with a side of lemon, croutons and beets if she was feeling fancy. She stuck to watching to news channels and the occasional Law & Order episode, so when people laughed and recounted '_Friends'_, '_The_ _Office'_, and _'30 Rock'_, she could only listen blankly, having no idea what they were talking about. She only had one copy of Redbook, an issue that she had bought over three years ago when she had tried to interest herself in women's magazines, but the lacklustre articles had failed to capture her interest. Her 'work clothes' and 'play clothes' were more or less the same thing, jeans being the main difference.

No, Olivia wasn't just a plain Jane, she was simply boring. Sometimes when she saw Peter smiling at her, she longed to confess to him that she simply could never make him happy. 'I'm dull and uninteresting! I think too much about work! I haven't changed my hairstyle since the third grade! I still listen to the same terrible music from high school! There's something in my fridge that smells and I can't figure out what it is!' But she'd always just smile back and keep her mouth shut.

"Liv," Rachel started as she joined her at the kitchen table, "I was watching Oprah yesterday while Ella was taking a nap and she was talking about making a change in your life. I was really inspired to make things happen. I figure the first day of spring is a perfect day to set plans into action."

Olivia smiled kindly at her little sister. "So what did you have in mind?"

"Well, I wanted to ask you about Peter…"


	12. Tolkien Reading Day

**Title:** _A Very Fringe Tolkien Reading Day_

**Characters: **_Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Astrid Farnsworth_

**POV: **_Peter_

**Genres: **_Holiday, _

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened because I want this to work with the rest of the "A Very Fringe Holiday" series._

**Warnings:** _None_

**Challenges:** _Tolkien, Lord of the Rings, Shower_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Word count:**_ 383_

* * *

"And then, Frodo tossed the ring in! Like this!"

Peter ducked a water bottle cap being tossed over the top of the shower curtain, narrowly missing being hit in the blue plastic as he tried to wash the shampoo out of his hair.

He pulled the shower curtain aside and shouted at his father who was sitting on the bathroom counter next to the sink, peeling the paper off the individual soaps. "Walter, I swear to GOD, if you keep throwing things in here, I'm going to tie you up and leave you in the closet!"

"Peter, I'm trying to tell you a story!" his father protested, hiding the soap behind his back.

"I read _'Lord of the Rings'_ years ago! I know what happens!" Peter snapped.

"Yes, but I know you like the story!"

"I'm trying to shower! Why won't you let me have any privacy?!" the younger of the two demanded.

Walter tried to secret the soaps into his pyjama's pockets. "I've already told you, I'm trying to tell you a story!"

Peter pointed at the bathroom door. "Get out! Get out!"

* * *

Twenty much-more-relaxed minutes later Peter wandered out into their sitting room, a towel wrapped around his waist while he towel dried his hair. "Okay, Walter, if you want…Walter?"

He stopped moving, trying to listen for an noise that might reveal his father's location and hurried over to the closet. He pulled open the door and found Walter sitting on the ground, talking into his cellphone. "And then Frodo got sick…I think. Regardless, the elf rescues him and takes him back to the elf city. Or something."

"Walter, who are you talking to?" Peter asked, exasperated.

Walter began to shut the closet door. "My assistant. Please Peter, I'm trying to make a phone call! Put some clothes on!"


	13. Easter

**Title:** _A Very Fringe Easter_

**Characters: **_Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Astrid Farnsworth_

**Guest Starring: **_Kenzie, Ray, Linda, Ben, & Cliff_

**POV: **_Peter_

**Genres: **_Holiday, _

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened because I want this to work with the rest of the "A Very Fringe Holiday" series. So yes, Liv is here, Fringing it up._

**Warnings:** _None_

**Challenges:** _Easter, keg hunt_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Word count: **_3007_

* * *

The morning had started off terrible. Firstly, they had been awoken at 1:27 in the morning when the hotel's fire alarm began to blare loudly in the hallway. After hurrying an agitated Walter out onto the cold sidewalk, while carrying all of his father's little—and heavy—treasures in a duffle bag, Peter discovered his cellphone battery was dead. He wasn't prepared as he usually was, obviously having lost some of his edge in the past few months back in the states.

Peter was only wearing a t-shirt and his pyjama pants, so by the time the fire department confirmed it was only dust setting off a fire alarm in the laundry room, he was shivering, tired and extremely irritable. Back in the room, Walter had a hard time settling back down again even though Peter could tell his father was exhausted. Walter had spent another hour putting his knickknacks and curios back in their places around the hotel, gibbering as Peter sat on the couch waiting for his father to finish so that he could turn off the lamp.

Finally, at almost four Peter was able to turn off their room's lights, having convinced Walter to go back to bed. He fell asleep not long after that.

* * *

When Peter woke up next it was a minute past nine, his father still fast asleep. He felt like he had woken up late for something and as he stretched under the warm comforter, yawning and trying to wake up he remembered what it was.

"Oh SHIT!" He jumped off the couch and half stumbled, half ran to the bed where his father slept. "Walter! Walter, wake up!"

"I don't want any pickles on that," Walter mumbled sleepily.

He shook the older man's shoulder. "Walter, wake up. We have to go feed Gene."

"Tell her to come here." He rolled over to face away from him.

Peter sighed. "Walter, she's a cow."

"Don't talk about my assistant like that," his father snapped drowsily.

"No. Walter, we have to go feed the cow Gene. You're thinking of Astrid."

"Oh." Then his eyes widened and he sat up. "Oh! Oh no!"

"C'mon, get dressed. We'll get some egg McMuffins on the way over."

Together they hustled to get dressed and make their way down to the street so they could speed off to campus. However, they managed to pull out right as people made their way to church and Easter brunch. Fortunately, Walter discovered a little bag of trail mix to keep him placated until they reached McDonald's and the breakfast sandwiches they picked out made a good breakfast for their ultra long commute.

When they finally reached Harvard, Peter got rid of their food wrappers and Walter hurried over to the cow; Gene mooed loudly, obviously happy to see them.

"Hello, pretty girl. Did you miss us?" his father said as he found her brush. "Peter, will you bring me that salt lick over there?"

Peter lifted the pink-coloured salt lick over to the cow's stall and Gene began to lick at it gratefully.

"Let's take her for a walk," Peter suggested. "My leg is cramping up."

"Capitol idea, Peter. Come along, Gene."

Together, they slowly led the bovine through the hallways up the ground floor and out onto the front lawn. Peter was a little surprised at how many people were on campus this morning and was a little thankful that he didn't know anyone because honestly, who wanted to be caught taking a cow for a walk with their father. However, this relief was short lived when **did** see people he recognised.

"Shit," he grumbled, trying to keep them from seeing him, which was difficult with Walter and Gene.

It was the EMTs that he frequently purchased items from to keep his private supply of "Peter's Assorted Sundries" well stocked. Recently he had purchased ammonia ampoules to use as a cheap, small explosive. There were five of them, all chattering amongst themselves happily and one of them, the tallest with black hair noticed Peter and waved at him.

"Hey!"

"Hey," Peter called back weakly, definitely wishing they hadn't spotted him.

The group came over and Ray, the man who had spotted Peter, pointed to Gene and asked, "What's up with the cow?"

Walter looked excited that strange, new people wanted to talk to him. "We're taking her for a walk. Her name is Gene! And I'm Walter. This is my son—"

Peter said, cutting him off. "They know who I am."

It seemed Walter recognised them. "You sold my son those—"

"Yes, Walter. They sell me things." Peter pointed to the travel mugs and beer steins they were carrying. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Easter Keg Hunt," the redhead said mischievously.

Walter looked positively delighted. "Ooh, how exciting!"

"We finished with the campus church service an hour ago and now we're…well, keg hunting."

His father grabbed him by the arm while Gene grazed on the lawn. "Peter, we should play too!"

Peter doubted that it was a good idea to put Walter in a situation with alcohol. "Oh, I don't know."

"It's open to everyone," the redhead with glasses on Ray's arm offered.

The older man tugged on his arm. "Please, Peter! We weren't planning on doing anything today anyway. Well, there was that Golden Girls marathon…"

"All right," Peter surrendered then looked at the EMTs. "We're going to go put Gene away."

They nodded. "Cool, we'll wait for you here."

"Easter keg hunt! Easter keg hunt!" his father sang as he hurried down the halls of the Kersage building, obviously very excited.

Peter decided that he really couldn't be too critical; after all he need to socialize with people other than his father and FBI agents and who knew—maybe this would placate Walter for a while. _'Yeah right,'_ he thought sourly._ 'We'll probably be taken in by campus security in no time at all.'_

Gene safely back in her stall, Peter decided it was best to lay down some ground rules for Walter.

"You need to stay with me at all times."

"Uh-huh," his father agreed.

"And you can't shout at anyone."

"Fine," Walter consented with a nod.

"Hands have to remain in your pockets when we're not drinking."

"Yes," the older Bishop agreed as he picked lint off Peter's heavy sweater.

"I'm only allowing you three drinks, subject to change depending on how well you're behaving."

His father snorted. "Peter, I always behave."

"No, you don't," Peter said, swatting away the other man's hands.

"Yes, I do."

"I'm serious! I don't want to scare them off! I buy things from them," Peter insisted.

"Suppliers," his father suggested as they left the laboratory and walked to the group.

"You could say that," he mumbled.

"I won't scare them off, I assure you," Walter said with a smirk, as if it was preposterous to him that he might embarrass his son. "Peter, what's an Easter keg hunt?"

"The university stashes about thirty five kegs of low-grade, cheap beer all around campus and the goal is to find as many of the kegs as you can."

"We're going to get plastered!" Walter cheered happily.

Peter shot him a glance. "No, we're **not**."

"I'm Ray," the tall slender man greeted Walter.

Walter gave him a quick handshakes. "I'm Walter."

The girl on Ray's arm with glasses and red hair smiled at Walter. "Kenzie."

"I'm Walter."

Next to Kenzie was a shorter woman with long blonde hair. "My name's Linda."

Walter kissed the top of her hand and Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm Walter."

"I'm Cliff," said a stocky and tall man, grinning broadly at Peter's father.

Walter studied the man's goatee. "I'm Walter."

The last of the EMT group was another slender man with brown military cut hair. "And I'm Ben."

"I'm Walter!"

"Yes, I'm sure he heard you the four other times," Peter said, rolling his eyes.

"You need a wristband," Cliff pointed out, gesturing to his own.

"And you didn't bring a stein, so you'll probably have to buy one at the registration booth," Linda said pointing over to a card table set up on the lawn not to far away from them.

Peter grumbled as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket, hoping he had enough money to pay the fee and buy the mugs for both of them. The group made their way to the registration booth where a lone girl was manning the cash box.

"We want to sign up for the keg hunt," Peter said and she glanced up at he and his father before passing over a sign-in sheet.

"Are you a teacher?" the blonde asked in a flat tone as she looked at Walter.

Walter leaned against the table and waggled his eyebrows at the girl. "Why? Would you like to be my student?"

"I want to know if you'd like your faculty discount," she said, unwaived by his flirting.

"Oh. Yes I would."

She held out her hand. "Faculty ID please."

"I'm here to get wasted, not give you my life story, you fascist!" Walter snarled.

Peter quickly moved his father away. "Just give us some wristbands and one stein."

"One?!" Walter cried out.

"We'll share. You don't need anything more than a buzz," Peter said, wondering how much of a handful his father was going to be this afternoon.

The girl held out her hand again. "Fifteen for your wristband, ten for his, twenty for the stein."

Walter clapped his hands, looking excited. "Yay, Easter keg hunt!"

"Give us the wristbands," Peter snapped as he handed over the money, already worn out.

"I want to hold my stein!" the older man whined and Peter gave it to him.

Wristbands on and dues paid, the two Bishop men followed after the assembly of medical technicians. Walter waved his new stein around and looked at the redheaded girl walking with them.

"And what is your name, my dear?"

"Kenzie," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"You have very pretty hair," his father observed politely. "Like the colour of Swedish fish. Well, the red kind."

"Leave her alone, Walter." Peter turned to Ray. "So where's the first keg?"

The tall man pondered. "Well, we know there's one behind the library."

Cliff held out a photocopy of the campus map, coloured and highlighted. "We made a map. See? We've circled probable locations, crossed out areas where they weren't or were already empty. Our current strategy is going for places out of the way so we have a better likelihood of finding something to drink."

"Peter, I think we need to do this every weekend," his father said, studying the map.

"They don't _do_ this every weekend." Peter then mumbled. "Thank God."

Walter paused and pointed to the wet grass. "Look."

Peter sighed and looked for the inevitable caterpillar or gum wrapper his father was going to point out. "What is it?"

"Footprints."

"Well, it is a college campus, Walter—"

"No, no. It's a heavy foot trail, obviously made after this morning's rain." The older man pointed out to tall shrubbery creating a hedge around the building. "I think there's a keg back there."

"Let's go!" Ben shouted and the group moved off across the lawn before Peter could protest that his father was pretty much insane.

But as they navigated past the heavy bushes, they discovered a clearing between the building and the hedges. Sitting on lawn chairs next to a keg was a frat boy and another young man, smoking and dressed like the Easter bunny. Upon seeing the cluster of keg hunters, the two jumped off their seats and shouted,

"Happy Easter!"

"Happy Easter!" Walter cried, clapping his hands and then held out his stein.

"Wristbands, please," they ordered as the others filed over for their beer.

His father took a few sips of the beer, made a face and handed it over to Peter. "Peter, may I see your cellular phone?"

"No phone calls," Peter warned before he handed the phone over.

"No phone calls," Walter agreed and waved Kenzie over. "My dear, would you mind showing me how to take a photo with this?"

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, so what alarmed.

The older Bishop gently pushed him next to the frat boy dressed as a large rabbit. "I want to take your picture with the Easter bunny!"

"Walter…" Peter groaned.

"Make it a group photo with your friends." His father waved the other people to enter the already embarrassing photograph.

"Say cheese!" Walter said cheerfully and the electronic noise of the photo being taken confirmed the moment had been immortalized, if for a temporary amount of time. The group sniggered as they pulled away from Peter, while Walter sang out, "Saved!"

Peter seized the phone and stuffed it back in his pocket, his face beet red—it would simply have to be deleted later.

"How old are you?" Walter asked Kenzie.

"Twenty-six," she replied, eating some M&Ms that he was eyeing hungrily.

"My assistant is the same age," he observed as the group left the hedges and returned to the lawn.

"You have your own assistant?"

"She's very good at cleaning up after me." He studied her for a moment. "You're taller than her."

"Walter, seriously. Get away from her." He pulled his father away from the young woman, who thankfully looked somewhat amused. "I'm sorry if he's bothering you."

"He's nice." She handed the M&Ms to Walter. "Here, just take them!"

Walter happily snatched them up and began to eat them. "Thank you, Kendo! I am prone to becoming cranky if my blood sugar begins to get low."

Walter waved across the lawn to a young woman who was almost unrecognizable in casual clothes.

"Hello, Assistant!" he shouted.

Peter did a double take as the woman stopped dead in her tracks. "Astrid?"

"Oh, uh, hey," she said, meandering over to them, looking not unlike she had been cornered.

"What are you doing here?" Peter asked, not missing the fact she was avoiding their eyes and a blush had spread across her cheeks.

"Um…"

Walter pointed to her wrist and asked gleefully, "Are you Easter keg hunting too?"

Astrid hid the wristband in her jacket pocket and her own stein behind her back. "Is that what you guys are doing?"

"Well, we came here to feed Gene. Then we met up with some acquaintances whom came for the keg hunt, too," Peter said gesturing to the group of EMTs they were with.

Walter squeezed her shoulder. "Be a lamb and join us."

"Okay," she replied hesitantly.

"These are some EMTs I know. Ben, Linda, Kenzie, Ray, and Cliff," Peter said quickly pointing to each one.

Mercifully, Astrid kept her introduction short, unlike his father. "Hi, I'm Astrid. I work with Peter and Walter."

Walter looked a little surprised. "You do?"

Astrid frowned at Walter and then turned to Peter. "How much has your father had to drink?"

"Happy Easter!" Walter shouted.

* * *

Four hours later, Walter seemed to need a nap, Peter was feeling courageous enough to call Olivia and ask her what she was up to, and Astrid had managed to lose her tennis shoes and socks somewhere on the search for the keg behind the library. It seemed the rushing around from keg to keg along with the drinking had worn them out. Peter was allowing Astrid to using his arm to steady her walking back to the laboratory while Walter was trudging along by his side.

"I don't think any of us can safely drive anywhere for the next few hours," Peter decided.

"I'm going to go sleep on the cot. And see what we have in the refrigerator," Walter mumbled.

Astrid gave a slight yawn. "I'm going to take a nap on the gurney."

Walter leaned around Peter. "Make sure you wash off the sticky stuff left over from the last man. I don't believe I cleaned it off afterwards. Brainy matter!"

The young woman nodded and covered her mouth as she yawned again. "Hey, maybe once we sober up we could go to IHOP for an Easter dinner. Ham and whatever."

"Maple syrup," Walter suggested.

Peter nodded. "Some cheesy omelet."

His father began to tap him insistently on the shoulder. "When we get back to the laboratory, you'll need to show Asterisk—"

"Astrid," she corrected.

"Astringent—"

"_Astrid_," she insisted.

"_My assistant_ the picture I took of you with the Easter bunny!" Walter cried happily.

"The Easter bunny?" Astrid squealed, clinging to Peter. "_How __**cute**_!"

Peter shook his head and made the promise to himself that next Easter he would be sleeping in come hell, high water, or hotel fire alarm.

* * *

**A/N: **_Sorry if this was totally out of character for any of you!_


End file.
